


Bedtime Stories

by taeminki



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: M/M, also it's kind of sweet at times and changbin has an interesting life, except i shit on some cliche relationship tropes a little bit, this fic has absolutely no significance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 16:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminki/pseuds/taeminki
Summary: Changbin has a story for every occasion--unlessthat occasion involved kids; in which case, Jisung could take the story-telling spotlight. (The two of them really were better as a pair.)





	Bedtime Stories

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNINGS**  
>  i. absolutely nothing explicit happens, but there's some brief discussion about a relationship between two characters with a severe age difference (yes, one is underage)  
> ii. there's also a little bit of mentioned abuse  
> iii. this is a whole mess

It's four o'clock in the morning when Changbin's paper shredder jams.

He had been drawing all night-- starting at midnight, when he decided laying in bed for two hours and tossing and turning was only waking his boyfriend up-- to now, after he'd crammed one too many unworthy sketches into his paper shredder and the tired machine had had enough. Changbin sighed, and slid out of his chair to work at the thing-- opened it up and carefully scooped the majority of its contents into a trash bin. He ran his fingers carefully along the blades to pick out stray pieces of paper, jumping back with a deafening yell when the thing suddenly whorled, and caught half his fingers. Changbin panicked for a few moments-- his heart calming from the shock but picking up again with worry. How bad was it? He couldn't feel anything except for wetness. Were his fingers okay? That was his _right hand_ , too-- he _needed_  that one! He _always_  cleaned the stupid shredder with his left hand-- why not tonight? Why didn't he _unplug it_ , like a logical person?

It was too early in the morning for this.

The light flicked on, and a towel wrapped around his hand. Jisung was next to him, softly hushing him and pulling him into a warm (perhaps overly, because of the copious amount of blankets that had been bunched around it for a few hours) and calming chest. Changbin was crying--of course, because he was damn scared and damn tired and damn stressed out. This was too much for him. Lately, _life_  had been too much for him.

"It's not that bad." Jisung muttered quietly, half his words heavy with a yawn. Changbin could hardly see his fingers for a moment-- vision blurred by tears and the temporary unfamiliarity of the light. When it cleared, though, it was spotted red and Jisung's thumb was near his eye, rubbing his tears half-off-of and half-into his cheeks. Changbin stared at his damaged fingers for some moments. The pain set in, but it was a gentle sting and not a horrible ache, and Changbin knew it was a very minor injury--if anything, on multiple fingers.

"I'm sorry for waking you up." Changbin muttered, bringing a hand up to cradle his wrist, as his arm was getting tired and Jisung could only focus his attention on so many details. Changbin tried to laugh, "Damn thing scared me--" except it came out like a sob and it was _Jisung_  who wound up laughing, his fingers tapping under Changbin's chin in such a subtle and sweet gesture that Changbin felt his stomach start to cramp with the way he tensed and cried.

"Don't worry about me." Jisung said. He tapped Changbin's chin again, "Hey. Look at me. What's it? Tell me."

"Everything." Changbin cried; and he cried freely for a few moments more before he cleared his throat, and groaned his emotion, and said, "I'm so-- _stressed out_ \--"

"Been there. It'll pass." Jisung muttered. He moved the towel away from Changbin's hand, and quickly returned it, "Still bleeding. Hold it, I'm going to grab some band-aids."

Jisung was gone for two minutes. He came back with a pack of band-aids and a glass of water, and damp bangs and bigger eyes. He put the water on the ground, and yawned, and told Changbin, "I'm tired," as he started to wrap Changbin's fingers with band-aids. There were three just on his ring finger-- two on his middle, and two on his pointer. His baby finger, and his thumb, were left untouched by wounds and band-aids. Jisung's fingers ghosted over them-- wrapped around his thumb and asked, "Better?"

"Much." Changbin said. He kissed Jisung-- at first as a _thank you_ , a simple gesture of gratitude--but Jisung's affection felt nice, and Changbin wrapped him in a hug, too. Jisung submitted to the sudden-- perhaps _too_  sudden touch, slouching against Changbin's chest and softly dozing off for moments at a time. Changbin wouldn't mind if Jisung fell asleep right then and there, sitting on the ground next to band-aids and a cup of water with him. He felt so alive, all of a sudden--not in a _life is good_ kind of way, but in an _I'm alive_ kind of way. He had a sleepy man in his arms, an open paper shredder to his left, a dull ache in his good hand, a trash bin full of paper and a spot on his floor littered with crumpled band-aid wrappers (that didn't quite make it to the trash bin from Jisung's tired, lazy hand), and nothing else could create such a picture _except_  for life.

Life was good, Changbin thought. No particular part of the picture was _good_  (except for Jisung), but putting it all together made it pretty good. In the morning, it would be better-- when Jisung and Changbin woke to full (or, at the very least, _better_ ) mental capacities and had enough wit about them to joke and make fun of the night before as they gathered the garbage on the ground and fixed the paper shredder together-- with the plug _out_  of the wall, like sensible people. In the morning, life would feel better; and it always did, with Jisung there.

For tonight, Changbin gathered Jisung up, and walked him to bed; and they fell asleep together despite the blankets falling _beneath_  their bodies and the light from the adjacent room filtering through their door. For tonight, none of that mattered.

 

 

 

 

 

:: It's raining when Changbin says _I love you_  for the first time.

He was hand-in-hand with the love of his life. (He foolishly _thought_  that woman was the love of his life, back when he was fifteen.) They were walking together, trying to get home before Changbin's parents realized he wasn't there. He was freezing cold, because he'd given Bia (no, he didn't actually remember her name; it was long, and foreign, and complex, but everyone called her _Bia_ , because it was easy) his sweater. It was a tight fit on her, because he was fifteen and she was thirty-seven, but she wore it well. (He thought she did.)

"Sleep well tonight, sweetheart," Bia told him when they were on his back porch, silently whispering to each other and kissing. Her kisses were sloppy and way too eager; she wanted too much out of Changbin for his age, and Changbin regretted not seeing it back then. A thirty-seven year old should _never_  want _anything_  to do with a fifteen-year-old. Changbin hadn't even been attractive at fifteen; he wasn't sure why she wanted _him_  so badly.

(He was easily influenced, that's why. He did what she said. He did _everything_  for her. He was easy, and that's what she wanted. He just hated to think about it.)

He held her waist as she kissed him. His arms sat awkwardly at her hips because he was short-- too short for her, especially when she wore heels like this. She bent her knees for him and kissed him for a long time, ruffling his hair affectionately and staining his mouth with her lipstick. He was in bliss; he thought her mouth tasted like cherries, but it tasted like a _mouth_ \--there was really nothing spectacular about it, or her.

"I love you," he told her. (He hated thinking about this.) She smiled again, and ruffled his hair, and told him to sleep well, and kissed him for a long time again, and walked away, with his sweater still on her back. (It only reached the middle of her stomach.)

Changbin was far too caught up in his own happy emotion to realize she hadn't said _I love you, too_.

 

 **NOW,**  
"I still can't believe your first love was _twenty-two_  years older than you.... That woman was such a pervert, honestly." Jisung said. His arms were wrapped around Changbin in a way that made Changbin feel protected; his elbows cradled Changbin's head comfortably, softly locking his body in place. Changbin laughed a little, "Yeah. I think she ruined women for me."

Jisung burst into laughter at that, his arms falling away from Changbin by the force of his sudden amusement. Changbin straightened up, laughing a bit himself--as a result of seeing Jisung laugh. He loved to see the man laugh; he was so animated, and his smile was so pretty.... _He_  was the love of Changbin's life, and Changbin knew well enough now to know it was plausible to consider Jisung as such. ( _He_  wasn't some old pervert that liked underage boys; in fact, _he_  was a year younger than _Changbin_. How about that, Bia?)

 

 

 

 

 

:: It's Hwang Hyunjin who saves Changbin's life.

Everyone had a near-death experience. Anyone who didn't had died after what _could_  have been a near-death experience-- a near-death experience that went that extra mile... a near-death experience that _made it_.... (Changbin was glad he left the talent of poetry to Jisung three years ago, and took up drawing instead.)

Changbin almost died, once.

He was riding his bike on a Wednesday morning, because he'd decided, a week before that, that he needed to start exercising every day. He took his cat for a walk some mornings (which didn't work out very well, so he'd only done it once so far; the poor, plump creature _hated_  to be dragged around, especially without any treats to sustain her). He walked by himself some mornings (twice). He rode his bike some mornings (twice-going-on-thrice). He didn't wear a helmet, which was stupid, but he didn't really worry about it because he lived in a nice neighborhood with nice, old people who drove slow anyways.

Sometimes, he forgot to consider the obvious: people driving through his neighborhood that weren't _from_  his neighborhood-- that weren't old, and careful.

Changbin wasn't supposed to ride his bike across the street, so maybe the accident was his fault--except he had crossing rights so this car _shouldn't_  have sped into him, but it did. (Changbin _would_  have one less scar on his leg if he _walked_  the bike across the street instead-- though, who knew? He might have ended up with handle bar indents in his ribs if it _had_  been beside him instead of underneath him).

Changbin woke up before the ambulance arrived. His vision was hazy, and his whole body ached. His head was the only part of him screaming in pain. There was a stranger above him, looking down at him. His arms disappeared past Changbin's peripheral, and his tears dripped onto Changbin's face. He saw Changbin stir, and he breathed heavy-- "You're alive. Holy shit, you're alive. Okay, don't move. You're bleeding a lot and the ambulance is coming-- _shit_. It's okay. I'm Hyunjin. You're okay."

Changbin remembered his name when he woke up again--didn't quite remember when he'd passed out, but he remembered Hyunjin. He saw Hyunjin a few times when his mother decided to take the case to court. Changbin didn't particularly want to, but he was only sixteen and she was overly protective after learning about Bia, and she wasn't about to let him brush this off. She was out for vengeance against anyone who hurt Changbin. (She'd put three people behind bars already.)

Hyunjin stepped forward immediately, and ratted out his friend for hitting Changbin and running off. Changbin wondered how he knew. Hyunjin said he'd been in the car-- "And I told him to slow the hell down but he didn't listen to me. He only stopped for a few seconds when he hit you. He almost ran _me_  over when I got out of the car--not on purpose, but he didn't actually hit _you_  on purpose, either. He's just an idiot."

"Yeah," Changbin muttered.

"I'm glad to see you're doing okay. Honestly, I was so scared. I-I'm glad I got out to help, too. I was told if I didn't wrap my jacket around your head, you would have bled out." Hyunjin's voice was shaky, as were his arms when he pulled Changbin into an out-of-place hug. "I'm glad you're alive."

"Thanks," Changbin mumbled.

 

 **NOW,**  
" _Thanks_ ," Jisung laughed, softly bending Changbin's fingers, "You're so awkward."

"I know. Don't make fun of me," Changbin said. He stretched his fingers over Jisung's, and curled them against his palm-- stretched again, and slotted them between Jisung's fingers, "I befriended him, anyway."

"As did I." Jisung said, "Except our friendship started off a little less... painfully."

"You met through _me_ \-- I think it was _more_  painful for the two of you." Changbin laughed. He was horrible at handling more than one person; hell, he was horrible at handling _one_  person. (Being socially awkward in a social world was unfortunate.)

"That's okay. You started us off, and we figured out the rest." Jisung said. He was quiet for a minute, and Changbin decided to fill the silence, because it looked like he was thinking. He seemed to be the sentimental one, now--except his statements were set more in the present, "Hyunjin is good to you."

"What?" Changbin couldn't help but laugh at the phrasing. _Good to you_ \-- it sounded intimate-- it sounded like something _Hyunjin_  should have (and, actually, probably had, at some point) said about _Jisung_. Jisung shrugged, and realized the awkward way he'd phrased his statement; and he waved his hands through the air animatedly, "You know what I meant."

"Actually, I'm not sure I did." Changbin said. Jisung rolled his eyes-- smile playing at his mouth, "It doesn't matter. Tell me something else."

"Something else," Changbin muttered, thinking, "Something else...."

 

 

 

 

 

:: It's mid-January, full moon in the sky, when Changbin gets shot.

 

 **NOW,**  
"What?!" Jisung spluttered, and spit water all over Changbin's front. Changbin yelped at the cold and the _disgust_  of Jisung spitting all over him, and laughed, "Babe!"

"You got _shot?!_ "

"It was a toy gun...."

" _Changbin_ ," Jisung sighed. Changbin laughed, and carefully took the glass of water out of Jisung's hand; it was teetering, and close to slipping from his grasp. Jisung shoved his shoulder when the glass was safely on the table, "Don't _do that_ to me! I had enough of a heart attack when you said you were in love with someone older than your _mom_ \--"

"For the record, my mother is very young." Changbin said. Jisung shoved him again; and Changbin laughed, and opened his arms, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I have a better story. Don't look at me like _that_ , it's a good one. I swear."

"If it's heart attack inducing, I'm going to sue you."

"My mom would probably beat you in that case."

"Changbin."

"I'm sorry! Okay--"

 

 

 

 

 

:: It's high time for senior year when Changbin tries pizza for the first time.

 

[ **NOW,**  
"It's _not_ ," Jisung said, his mouth falling open, "You didn't try pizza until you were _seventeen?_ "

"Actually, I skipped my sophomore year--I was sixteen," Changbin said. Jisung had this horrified look on his face-- though his mouth was quirking up at the corner. Changbin asked, "What? Babe-- _this_  is worse than me getting hit by a car?"

"Pizza is pizza, Binnie."

"I can't believe you love pizza more than me."

"Oh, you can _shove it_ \-- tell me the story."

"Are you sure? I don't want _this_  to be the story that breaks your floodgates--"

" _Tell me the story, Binnie_."]

 

Hyunjin wanted to do something special for Changbin after his (ex-)friend ran him over. He proposed the two of them go out to do something or eat something that Changbin had ever tried before. Changbin thought long and hard about it-- a solid two minutes-- before coming up with something, "I've never had pizza before."

Hyunjin's reaction was something like Jisung's reaction; he gasped, and dropped his books. Changbin flinched at the harsh noise they made against the concrete. He exclaimed, "You've never had pizza?!" and embarrassed him in front of a good portion of the school. (It was a good thing the two were already on their way home; if they were still on campus, many more people would have heard.)

"My mom's a health freak," Changbin said. "She says there's too much grease on pizza."

" _Grease_  is what makes food taste good, half the time." Hyunjin said. He stooped to gather his books, and Changbin didn't have half a mind to help him until he was already done. Hyunjin placed a hand on Changbin's shoulder, "Let's try some pizza."

They did. It was incredible. Changbin didn't really know how else to describe the experience-- except he gained two pounds and had a new pimple the next day but he didn't particularly care. (His mother did. She yelled at him for a minute, but apologized later on--because he was closing in on adulthood and she realized she couldn't really control his diet anymore. She cried, too, because Changbin was closing in on adulthood and he'd had a hard life--grew up too fast and spent his childhood in depression. He awkwardly told her it wasn't _her_  fault. She cried even more.)

 

 **NOW,**  
"It actually makes sense, this story. I always wondered why you were so addicted to pizza--it's because you missed out on sixteen years with it."

Changbin kind of liked that _that_  was what Jisung had taken from his tale; and he rolled with it, "It was the worst sixteen years of my life."

Jisung looked at him with a certain expression--one he'd never seen on Jisung before. He'd seen it on his mother. He'd seen it on Hyunjin. He'd seen it on his grandmother. Jisung tilted his head a little bit, and smiled sadly, and rubbed Changbin's hands between his, like he was trying to warm them. He asked, very softly, "Were they?"

Jisung didn't ask the question like he was doubting Changbin; he asked like he was feeling for Changbin, trying to get him to open up about something--maybe all of it. Changbin shrugged, and curled his fingers, and uncurled them, and laced them with Jisung's fingers, "I guess they were. But I wouldn't trade them in, either. A lot of really interesting stuff happened--and I have lots of stories because of it. I almost drowned in the bath when I was seven--"

"You told me once that you regretted most of your life when you were fifteen and sixteen-- the only thing you didn't regret was Hyunjin. You said you couldn't regret him, though, because you didn't _cause_  him.... Do you really blame yourself for everything that happened to you?"

"Except for the pizza thing. My mom did that to me."

"Changbin."

"What?"

"You really blame yourself?"

"Yeah?" Changbin said. Jisung frowned at him, and Changbin tried to smile, "Come on-- you've got to be an idiot to get into half the shit I got into. What kind of fifteen-year-old dates a thirty-seven year old and _believes_  her when she says their relationship is so good and so sweet? And-- who bikes across the intersection instead of walking it? I walked right in front of that toy gun, you know-- I lost vision in my right eye for a week because of that. Just last night I jammed my fingers into a paper shredder."

Jisung was silent. Changbin had another thought, "And what kind of _sixteen_ -year-old really _listens_  to their mother about a diet? Maybe that was my fault, too. I don't know."

Jisung was still silent. Changbin finally registered this, and looked up. Jisung had a few tears on his cheeks, but he still had a smile on his lips. He didn't look sad, oddly. His kiss felt happy, too.

"Your mom was right to say you grew up too fast," Jisung said. Changbin thought he'd missed that part, but he agreed, "Yeah. I think I did."

 

 

 

 

 

It's four o'clock in the morning, and Changbin's drawing again, but he's okay this time. He's got Jisung with him.

"You know, you never did tell me the other two people your mom had arrested for hurting you." Jisung brought up. Changbin glanced at him. His eyes were still focused on his laptop screen, but he looked up, too, and smiled, "I was intrigued when you told me."

Changbin took a moment to think, and started--not in the mood to tell a story, but willing to summarize it for Jisung, "Well. My house was robbed when I was home alone once, and my mom hired a private investigator to find him. I have no idea what went down, but he ended up with a five-year sentence."

Jisung was quiet for a minute-- typing away, looking at his screen. Changbin thought he might not be listening anymore, and found himself a bit annoyed-- but, just as he was about to turn back to his drawing, Jisung spoke, "Your life is insane."

Changbin smiled. It was, wasn't it? He swiveled his chair, and faced his drawing, and slowly continued his sketch. He recalled the other story a few minutes later, when the eye of his cat had been shaded in-- "Also, my step-dad. He stole my money and hit me sometimes, when I couldn't fork it over; and when she found out--arrested."

Jisung took a long moment to reply, and it was a mutter when he did, "Powerful woman."

Changbin nodded, speaking slowly as he concentrated on shading, "She's... the strongest person... in my life.... Except for my grandmother, maybe--but she only had _one_ person arrested on my behalf."

The typing stopped, and Jisung sounded incredulous, " _Another one?_ "

Changbin decided to stop drawing, as well--after taking a moment to finish up the bag of his woman's eye. He swiveled around and faced Jisung. His expression held as much disbelief as his words had; and Changbin amused a bit, "She had a cop arrested--but only for one night."

Jisung's eyebrows dipped, and his head shook in disbelief, "What did he _do?_ "

"My grandmother and I went to Japan for a week or so, and she decided to teach me how to drive. I don't know why she thought it was necessary _then_ , but-- long story short, he pulled me over and she claimed racism and he was suspended for one night."

Jisung blinked a few times, tilting his head and wondering, "He... wasn't technically arrested, then....?"

"She called it _no-privilege_ arrest-- kind of like house arrest, except he had to act like a civilian for a day because he 'didn't have fragile masculinity in the form of a badge'."

"Your grandmother is an amazing woman. I wish I could have met her--" Jisung slapped a hand over his own mouth, and looked at Changbin with wide eyes. He let his hand fall away half a second later, "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay." Changbin mused softly. He got out, and stretched his legs, and moved over to Jisung, and flopped down on his stomach, "She died five years ago-- I'm not sensitive to it anymore."

"I love you." Jisung said.

"I love you, too." Changbin responded. He pulled Jisung to him-- the very reason his body had gravitated toward the man when he wasn't quite done drawing; he expressed his gratitude with a touch, and a few brief kisses, "Thank you for letting me be sentimental tonight.... I know my stories can be a bit much sometimes."

"I love your stories."

"And I love you."

"And I love _you_."

\--And Seo Changbin was so sentimental, and so goddamn grateful for Han Jisung.

**Author's Note:**

> ive posted six skz fics now and two thirds of them are binsung... can you guess my favorite skz ship


End file.
